


This Good You Speak Of

by wirewrappedlily



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Has Issues, I'd hug him but Stiles would kill me, M/M, he's so broken, in varying colours and flavours, many many issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 18:13:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wirewrappedlily/pseuds/wirewrappedlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would you do when the only person you've ever been in love with tells you that the first person they loved--the reason why they can't <i>be</i> with you, not yet--is the person who killed off, both directly and indirectly, every single member of their family?</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Good You Speak Of

When Derek told him that Kate had been his first love; had used him to kill his family, Stiles merely kissed his temple and held him closer, hate for her stored away in the pit of his stomach, because he couldn't let himself feel it, not like this. 

They had been lying in bed. Stiles couldn't remember whose, but he knew they had been because Derek could let down his guard when they were lying down together. Derek had stopped kissing him--again, because he'd yet to go past anything more than kissing--and laid down against his chest, ear over his heart, and he'd told him--in the smallest, most broken voice Stiles had ever heard from him--about Kate Argent and Derek Hale. Told him everything, even the things that had Derek's throat closing up at the thought of. Stiles knew that he could probably smell the misery and anger and tears coming off of Stiles for the sheer pain that Derek had gone through, but there was nothing--there were no words to say to that. 

What would you do when the only person you've ever been in love with tells you that the first person they loved--the reason why they can't _be_ with you, not yet--is the person who killed off, both directly and indirectly, every single member of their family? 

Personally, Stiles wanted to shred her to pieces and then burn them with her still alive to feel it. He wanted to be able to go back and fix it himself. He wanted to know what had made Derek say yes to _her_ when he could've easily had anyone he wanted, and Stiles knew it. He wanted Derek to stop shaking like he was scared of what Stiles would do. 

So, Stiles kissed his temple and held him closer, fit perfectly against him, his libido tamped down, for now, with how much he'd like to rip Kate in half; and his anger pressed out of him, because he had someone far more important to him in his arms, and loving Derek so much it hurt felt so much better than being angry. 

Stiles carded his hand through Derek's hair when they got a moment alone, and kissed his shoulder. He held Derek's hand subtly when they were with the pack, and pushed, pulled, prodded, poked, and nuzzled his way into Derek's arms when they weren't. He spent an entire snow day in the kitchen making cookies and stuffing Derek with them until Derek knew what his favourite kind was with hot chocolate and mini-marshmallows. Derek couldn't get hyper on sugar, exactly, but he could get queasy from it; throwing Stiles into his winter gear and throwing on his own jacket before they headed out to try to soothe the sugar overdose. Stiles took Derek's hand in his own, stuffing it in his pocket as they walked, pretending it was because Derek was a walking furnace, and not because Derek's was too man to admit he got cold himself. Stiles started a snowball game he knew he was going to lose, and it ended when Derek caught him neatly around the waist, stopping him from face-planting into a snowdrift. Stiles kissed him a thank you. He kissed him at his house, and at Derek's; in the coffee shop they frequented for the sandwiches; and in the parking lot of the school. Stiles kissed him without shame or a want to hide: his dad knew, and Derek had come to dinner enough that they were almost buddies. Stiles lost half the arguments he'd had since Derek and his dad joined forces, but it was good not to have to worry about his father stumbling into a supernatural crime scene, unarmed and unprepared; it was good to know that Derek had his back. 

When Derek took Stiles's hands and put them on his skin, it was his choice. And when Stiles had felt him start to tremble again, Stiles had told him that this was enough; he wouldn't do anything but touch what Derek had been willing to bare, and he wasn't going to try to take this any further than that. He'd laid down on Derek's chest, listening to his heartbeat against his ear, and when they were both calmed down, Stiles let his fingers trace up the veins on the inside of Derek's arm, keeping every touch light and gentle. 

Derek grunted, pulling Stiles in and evening out his breathing until he was asleep and Stiles was drifting slowly off in his arms. 

In the early hours of dawn, Derek let Stiles press his fingers over Derek's skin, the gentleness catching at his throat as Stiles watched the path his fingers, breathing purposefully deep and slow and even so that Derek had something to match, so that he had something to hold onto when he was slipping into the memory again. Stiles kissed him good morning and smiled as Derek did, sitting back on Derek's thighs. "I liked sleeping like this." Stiles murmured, open and at ease: Derek could take it or leave it for another day. 

"I like it, too. We'll...we can do this." Stiles nodded once, decisively, because _yes they can_. Derek doesn't even flinch when Stiles kisses his neck before getting out of bed; they can most certainly fall asleep without their shirts. 

"I'm actually surprised I don’t sleep-strip. You are a blast furnace." Stiles teased, grinning. 

Derek cocked one eyebrow, "You mean that striptease last week…?" He teased back, snorting as Stiles smacked his arm, "You don't usually strip, no. But you can't keep socks on to save your life."

Stiles cocked his head, inquisitive, and Derek just shrugged, rolling his eyes as he put on his shirt. Stiles snagged another kiss, glancing out of the window to see if his dad's cruiser was in the driveway. "He's not here, you can come down for breakfast instead of pretending to come in." Stiles smiled at him, wrapping around him as he buried his face in Stiles's hair. 

"I'm supposed to be here, actually. He's known for three months." 

Stiles paused, wincing, "Which is right around the time you _started_ sneaking into my bedroom to cuddle, isn't it? Sorry, man. But, you have not woken to a gun in your face, right? Please say you haven't woken up to a gun in your face…"

"No guns. He says...he says he trusts me. To take care of you. To make sure I'm good...I'm good for you." Stiles's hand slipped into Derek's, and Derek looked up at him, looking utterly confused. 

"Hey...I love you, you idiot." Stiles muttered, drawing him in, "I trust you not only with my life, but with the lives of the people I love most. And that list consists of you and my dad, and to a slightly lesser extent because we're bros, Scott. My dad knows I love you; he knows I trust you. And he knows that that means he should trust you, too." Stiles ran the backs of his fingers over the place where Derek's hair ended at the nape of his neck, soft and soothing in his touch. "Also, there's a good chance he's hoping that his trust will throw you and make me undesirable because we don't have to be sneaky around my cop father. You engrained that bad boy image well." 

Stiles was grinning as Derek reeled him in, and by the end of the kiss, Derek was grinning, too. "Stiles…"

Stiles leaned into him, "I rather that you show me than tell me." Meaning _you don't need to say it_ , meaning _I already know_. Stiles has his words, and Derek has his actions. He didn't need this to be something they can both do in both areas; Stiles will show and tell and tattoo it into Derek's heart when he can, and Derek will show him--does show him, actually--and Stiles would love him all the harder for it. Stiles brought Derek with him when he turned to make breakfast; giving Derek silent permission to press into his back and rub idly at his sides, to weave around him like a second set of hands while he cooks, always a part of them touching, but effortlessly working with and around each other. Derek tucked his face into Stiles's neck, melting around him, "Couch. I'm making you cuddle me. Don't give me that face, you get to oh-so-covertly scent me all you want when we cuddle." 

"It might be less fun with your permission." Derek pouted, tilting his head in speculation. 

Stiles elbowed him, narrowing his eyes and pursing his lips. When Stiles went to sit on the other end of the couch, Derek snagged him, reeling him into his lap. Derek sprawled over the couch, nuzzling into Stiles's neck while Stiles flipped through channels for something to watch. "I think I need coffee, but I really don't want to get up. You are both comfy and warm." Stiles moaned weakly as Derek's big hand came to the back of his neck, massaging the tension out until Stiles was bonelessly sunken into him. Derek's other hand rested against Stiles's chest, over his heart, breathing against his neck to scent mark him. Derek pulled the quilt down from the back of the couch, covering Stiles as well as he could, knowing that it'd lull him to sleep. It was a weakness that Derek loved; Stiles was so easily lulled asleep under the cover of a blanket, pliant and warm and so soft that Derek fought himself constantly not to kiss him, not wanting to wake him up. Before long, Derek helped Stiles tip sideways on his chest, cradling his arm under Stiles's knees and curling him up into the position he usually ended up in, the one he was most comfortable in. Derek's thumb rubbed behind the ear not pressed to his heart, his fingers gently rubbing against the back of his neck. Stiles murmured, stretching against him in a long movement, the half-mangled words he was sighing something ridiculous and incomprehensible about decapitated teacozies. Stiles and he had slept in each other's presence before, many times, but it was a show of trust to Derek, that Stiles was put so completely at ease around him that he could slip off to sleep against his chest easier than he fell asleep most nights without him. 

Derek didn't sleep quite so easily, but it was down to the need to protect overruling the peace having Stiles curled up against him brought. To anyone who would look, Derek would play his role and get grumpy, would act unwilling, would refuse to hold him. It was something Stiles laughed at him about after Erica had mentioned it to him, and he'd stopped falling asleep against Derek--an effect to the cause that Derek nearly hated himself for. Derek had told him in triplicate that he was more than happy to be slept on--had had to explain it in a stilted, barely-translatable way that he couldn't bear the thought of anyone seeing how much he cared, because then Stiles would inevitably be taken from him. And Stiles had laughed quietly, and told Derek in no uncertain terms that Stiles would need him to tell him what he didn't like; what Stiles needed to stop doing, because he would stop doing it for him. If it made Derek uncomfortable, Stiles would stop doing it. Derek couldn't summon the words to tell him he shouldn't kiss him in public, because it was too open and anyone could see--and he couldn't summon those words mostly because it felt like breathing to have Stiles in his space. That the pack had been shocked silent when Stiles had limped through the door of the train depot after triggering a hunter's trap to pull them off of Scott's tail and Derek had lifted him off his feet (and it was a good thing, too, with a broken ankle as bad as that) and kissed him in front of them, brazenly, for the first time, was more a sign to him than anything that their friends were idiots and they needed to work on observational skills a little harder. 

Kate hadn't kissed him in the daylight, where anyone could see. She hadn't brought him to her when he was hurt, and would have struck at him when he was hurt and on shaky ground. Stiles was fearless and good; wasn't always what Derek wanted, but he was most certainly turning out to be what Derek needed. Stiles was completely new and uncharted territory to Derek, and it made it easier to keep himself grounded; to be beside Stiles in the moment. Stiles worried about it, he knew; Stiles went easily out of his way to make sure that he did nothing that would make Derek get lost in the memories, and Derek would forever be questioning his luck that Stiles cared enough to do that. 

Derek knew when he pulled himself out of sleep, but he let Stiles press lazy kisses to his jaw and neck like he was doing it in his sleep, scrubbing his fingers through Stiles's hair in response, rubbing his hand down Stiles's spine. " _Coffee_. Stop pulling me in with your gravitational force of warmth and comfy-ness." Stiles whined. 

Derek smiled because he was the only one who'd know, smacking at the curve of Stiles's ass and releasing him, "Then go." 

"You'll still be here when I get back?" Stiles mumbled. 

Derek turned his head, catching Stiles's lips gently, curling his fingers on Stiles's cheek, sharing a look that he hoped Stiles read correctly as 'always'. Stiles smiled, giving him one last peck on the lips before sighing his way upright. 

"I have blood in my coffee stream!" 

"You run on caffeine and sexual frustration."

Stiles cackled once, "That's hilarious. Also, true." 

Derek sniggered, guiding Stiles back down and wrapping around him greedily, taking a long drag of the strong tea Stiles had made for him without needing to ask. "You love me?" 

"Mmm-hm." Stiles hummed, carding his fingers through Derek's hair and knocking a kiss into his temple despite the awkward angle. "If the world ends in ice, I expect you in my igloo." Stiles grinned, "In nothing but--" 

"Don't finish that sentence." Derek half-groaned, half-whined, knocking his forehead into Stiles's shoulder. 

"You could totally pull off the fur-loincloth, though!" Stiles protested, already laughing before Derek made a protesting sound and dug his fingers into Sitles's ticklish sides. "No! NO! Not the--Not the _knees_!" Stiles was not shrieking. Nope. But he'd challenge anyone to get tickled like he was being tickled and not get a little shrill. 

Pinned between Derek and the couch, Stiles coaxed Derek down against his chest, fitting a hand back through his hair as he laid with his ear over Stiles's heart, the both of them breathing like freight trains from laughter, calming slowly down. Stiles flicked his ear, and Derek grunted, completely unwilling to respond to that. "Stiles--" 

"Shh, you love me. I know you love me. You know how I know?" Stiles cupped his fingers under Derek's chin, raising his lips up and taking them softly, "Because you're here." 

Derek pushed his head against Stiles's chest, settling down against him, "Okay?" 

Stiles pressed at his shoulders, pushing him down. "Perfect," he sighed, perfectly at ease as they watched television and lazed. 

A few days later, Stiles was spending the full moon and his father's trip to a conference in LA with a pillow fort, a fire place, a bag of marshmallows, a giant bowl of popcorn, and more animated movies than a six-year-old could ever want. 

Stiles was singing to himself quietly, putting the finishing touches on his evening when his front door was kicked open and Derek was inside, striding towards him, looking like lightning. 

Feral-red eyes glanced over the fire roaring safely in the fireplace, and Derek struggled for a long moment, his fingers curled into claws or Stiles would've been in his arms. 

"I'm okay." Stiles told him softly, glancing at the fire, and back at Derek. His clothes were ripped through in a couple places, his whole body trembling. Stiles reached slowly forward for him, taking his hand gently and bringing it up to his neck, a small whimper in the back of his throat as his talons nearly grazed his skin, "Feel, I'm okay--my heartbeat's steady, Derek. The fire isn't a threat." 

Derek made a sound almost like a purr as his hand cupped more steadily around Stiles's throat, "Safe." 

Stiles pulled Derek down, kissing his lips too loosely, pulling him down so that Derek's face was pressed into his throat, "Love you, caveman." Stiles chuckled quietly, rubbing his fingers through Derek's hair again, "Are the Betas battened down?" Derek made an affirmative noise that was even more of a purr, and Stiles turned his head to kiss his jaw and neckline. "Can you come with me?" Derek pressed further into Stiles's space, nodding, "Then come watch some cartoons with me. Keep me safe." Stiles threaded their fingers together, waiting for Derek to say no. Derek released his hand in a jerky movement, flicking his jacket off his shoulders in a violent movement, hunkered into himself. Stiles brushed his hand over Derek's cheek lovingly, drawing him in closer and leading him into the den of blankets and pillows. Stiles simply pet into his hair as Derek curled around him, smiling a tiny smile. 

"Fire's safe?" 

"It is." Derek turned his face into Stiles's wrist, his nose snuffling at Stiles's wrist, his lips nipping at Stiles's pulse, "We're both okay. We're safe." Stiles was still shocked that Derek had joined him, but he opened his arms for Derek and held him close, "I'll keep you safe, Derek." 

Slowly, Derek calmed, his control winning out over instinct to protect and the pull of the moon, curling him down into Stiles's lap, Stiles's fingers scrubbing through his hair. "I'm sorry…" 

Stiles tweaked his ear, "Don't." Stiles bent down to kiss his temple, "I want you here, I'm just sorry that it's because of the fire." 

Derek looked up at him with unfathomable eyes, "I couldn't stand the thought of you being near fire. We were running...I smelt the smoke. Boyd and Scott took the others back…" 

"I'm sorry." Stiles told him earnestly. 

Derek shook his head, pulling him into a kiss, soft and sweet, didn't stop kissing him as they ended up laying back on the nest of blankets, sliding his hands up over hot skin under the bright red hoodie Stiles was wearing, his thigh fitting between Stiles's legs as the boy moaned and arched under him, his lips flushed hot and swollen as Derek drew his hoodie up further and further. Stiles's tongue snuck out, brushing over his lips and delving into his mouth as his clever fingers scrabbled and grasped at Derek's clothes, his grip on Derek riding him up instead of yanking Derek down, his lips breaking from Derek's to cry out as Derek's thigh rubbed at him. Derek's big hand caught under his back, splaying out and supporting him as Stiles hissed at the branding touches, burning too hot. Derek's eyes were steady, deep and powerful as he slowly drew Stiles's hoodie up to bare his chest completely, Stiles throwing it somewhere blindly in his impatience. Derek's lips twitched before he lowered his head down to Stiles's pale skin, licking and sucking lightly at his nipples, enough to redden, but not enough to bruise. Stiles's hand curled around the back of his neck, his head falling back as he moaned, hands shaking as he scratched through Derek's mess of black hair. Derek rumbled, almost purred, and Stiles couldn't help the broken sound of want in response. Derek started to inch Stiles's sweatpants down on his hips, fingers hot and rough on his skin. Derek's hand slipped over his hips, down against his ass, gripping him tight and pressing him upwards against Derek's chest, one of Derek's arms holding him up easily, the other pushing his sweatpants all the way down. Stiles scrambled out of them, kicking them away as Derek laid him down. Derek's eyes were gold as he took Stiles in, dark and unfathomable. Stiles shivered against the nest of pillows and blankets, his breath hiccoughing with nervousness. He wanted Derek so much it almost hurt, shivering with it, and with fear. 

"Derek," Stiles murmured, voice a soft warning, but almost a question. 

"Do you want to?" 

"Yes…" Stiles sighed, "we don't have to, though." 

Derek's features softened, dipping down to kiss over his chest. "Thank you." Derek knelt up, tugging his shirt off in one movement, his hands returning to Sitles's flanks in the next breath, running down either side to his hips while Derek just drank him in, his hands gentle and hot on his skin, his mouth loose and soft when it pressed breathy kisses to his chest again. Derek was so utterly careful with him that Stiles was hit with the realization that keeping himself in check was that big of a battle. 

"Stop if you need to, Derek." Stiles murmured again, rubbing his scalp gently and coaxing him up, the kiss long enough to make him lightheaded; hot enough to make him forget how to breathe anyway. Derek's body was spread over him, covering him, and Stiles had never been more painfully turned on, or more completely relaxed. He was safe here, at ease about himself and about Derek and about them together. He hadn't thought it possible to get here, but Stiles knew that the security he felt came from Derek's appearance from the night. His need to make Stiles safe. That, more than any other action or half-conceived word, cemented that Derek loved him. 

Derek groaned and shook his head lazily, "Need _you_." 

Stiles laughed softly, kissing him again, keeping him there as he smiled, hands tracing over his shoulders and up to cup his neck, "You have me. You always had me." It was a promise, and they both knew it, Stiles's smile slow and devious, his hands drifting down over Derek's matchless skin until he reached the waist of Derek's jeans, playing around the cut of them on his hips, "So what do you want to do with me?" 

"C-Can I--?" Derek's voice gave out on him, presented with far too much; too many possibilities, too much promise, too much skin, all of it for him, offered like it's not _everything_. 

Stiles nodded dazedly, kissing him gently again, "Anything you want." 

And Stiles was _new_ , he was _untouched_. He was untouched, this would be his first time, and here he was, offering Derek whatever he wanted, regardless of what it was he wanted. It wasn't going to happen like that; Derek knew about being new in the face of greed. He couldn't let it be what he'd give to Stiles. Not at all. This had to be for them both. Stiles pressed up into him, bare chest to bare chest, one leg hitching up around his hips as Stiles kept kissing him. "Like this?" Derek tried to ask. Between Stiles and the moon, he was overloading; all his senses heightened, the awareness of the fire--still safe, he knew it was safe, he wasn't going to lose it to the urge to protect again--and the scent of peace and lust on Stiles's skin, mixing together like too powerful a cocktail in his head. He wanted to take Stiles to pieces if he could. Stiles sighed a moan as his hand slid down over the soft globe of his ass, fingers skirting between his cheeks almost accidentally. "Like this?" Derek asked again, managing with a voice that sounded like he was barely in control. 

"Yes." Stiles moaned, chasing after his touch, bucking back for more of his fingers, his eyes half-lidded and dark, mouth parted with want. 

Derek carefully untangled Stiles from around him, "Lube…"

"Upstairs, middle drawer on my headboard." Stiles recited almost mournfully. 

Derek stood over him for a long moment, gazing down at the pale arc of Stiles's body on the blankets and pillows, "Don't move." Derek croaked, running faster than strictly necessary to get back to Stiles all the sooner. 

Stiles smiled when he came back, sat up and turned to watch him. Stiles's brows lifted with a look like Derek was giving him a gift when he shirked his jeans, half-curling around him and dragging him into a kiss, setting the lube down blindly beside them to kiss Stiles breathless, kiss him trembling and flushed raspberry-red. Stiles nuzzled into his shoulder as the kiss broke, Derek keeping his lower lip for a moment, nipping at it to watch how red it could turn. Stiles sighed, laying them back down, guiding Derek between his legs, whining at the friction of Derek's cock against his. Derek took his mouth again, ruthlessly stomping down on apprehension and nerves. When they'd begun, he'd been careful to make sure he knew everything he'd need to. This would be his first time with another man, but he'd learned as much as he could to make sure it'd be safe and good when it happened; hurting Stiles wasn't an option. 

Sties cupped his cheek, leading him down and mouthing along his jaw, relaxing back again with a small smile, "Relax. I hear this is the kind of thing that absolutely gets better with practice, so don't worry about setting the bar too high." 

Derek snorted, shaking his head, "That. Is. Ridiculous." He murmured, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the bottom of Stiles's ribcage, trailing down to his hips. Stiles sighed as Derek opened the lube and rubbed it warm between his fingers. Shifting his legs open wider, Stiles watched with steady eyes, colour burning high in his cheeks and the tips of his ears; his heartbeat fast but steady. Stiles licked his lips as Derek traced over his hole carefully, studying him as he did. "Are you sure?" 

"Yes. I love you. I can't think of anyone I'd rather be with more than I want to be with you." Stiles told him, and even without his extra talents, Derek could've heard it was the truth. Something in him finally snapped, a strange confidence filling him and colouring his touches, "Relax, Derek." 

Stiles's voice broke him out of the fear more than anything; soft and coaxing, his body offered easily because his heart was the prize and Derek had already won that. Carefully, Derek eased his finger into the tight heat, watching avidly as Stiles sucked in and forced out a breath, relaxing around him and biting his lip as he pushed his hips down minutely. Derek raised himself up, kissing Stiles slow and sweet, his finger easing out and back in. 

Derek may not have had experience with another man, but it didn't seem to matter when Stiles was moaning openly, pushing down on his fingers, his cock hard and the scent of his need heady. Derek wanted to take Stiles into his mouth and taste him; the scent was almost a taste to him already as he traced the curve of his collarbones with his tongue and set his teeth against the pale arch of Stiles's neck, refusing himself the desire to leave a mark. Stiles sighed, moving against him as Derek stretched him open further. Stiles captivated him completely when Derek stroked his prostate, the bitten off gasp that could easily have been a cry bringing Derek up from the long planes of freckled skin, his attention focusing the look of pleasure riding Stiles's features, the abandon. "In me. Derek, now." Stiles whined. 

Derek kissed him quiet, kissed him dizzy, but he was working his fingers slowly back out, being as cautious as he could be. Stiles moaned brokenly, hands greedy as he clung to Derek's neck and arm, his legs slipping around Derek's hips, effectively rubbing Derek's cock between his cheeks, catching the head against his slick rim. Both of them swore at that, Stiles rocking against him to make it happen again, his fingers curling against Derek's shoulder as he bit his lip and hissed. His heartbeat was thundering, want so acute Derek was almost stunned in the face of it flooding into Derek's senses. Derek caught his eye just for the connection as he inched his way in, only breaking it to suck Stiles's bottom lip from between his teeth, worrying it gently with his own and coaxing Stiles's mouth out of the perfect 'o' of a moan it'd formed into until he could suck on his tongue. There was pain spiking Stiles's scent, and Derek had to stop his inching, pouring himself into kissing while he fought with the drive to protect; to keep Stiles so safe he might as well have been wrapped in cotton wool. The scent of pain and fire was driven away in a way only Stiles could give to him; the boy's forehead resting against his as he chugged air like a locomotive, his eyes near-black with pupil. 

"I love you. Stay with me, Derek. I need you."

Derek groaned, his hands gripping at slick skin, trying to find a better purchase, trying to assuage the ache in him to find a way, any way, to bring Stiles closer. Derek bottomed out, Stiles gusting a breath over his back, clinging to him tight as he did, "Stiles, I love you, too." Derek whispered out, voice hoarse. Stiles's scent gave him away, spiking with elation while he carefully kept it from registering on his features. Stiles pressed their lips together; closed, chaste, an anchor from the first kiss Stiles had stolen from him to this. Stiles was close enough to claim and own. He was close enough that Derek slipped into the uncharted waters of having claimed. 

Derek worked into an easy rhythm, his mouth magnetized to Stiles's skin in any way he could get it, his will not strong enough just at present to pull himself away. He memorized the sighs and moans; the pull of Stiles clenching around him when Derek found just the right angle. "D-Don’t want it to end…" Stiles choked out before long, his cock painfully hard, his stomach quivering with the need to come. Derek kissed him loosely, Stiles's blunt nails scratching slightly at his shoulders as Derek reached between them, peppering him with kisses while the wolf gave itself over to a pull stronger than the moon. 

"Come, I want to feel you come around me." Derek breathed, stroking in time with his thrusts. Stiles groaned a whimper, his eyes closed until Derek coaxed them open, focused a boundless amount of energy into watching Derek take him in while Derek wrung his orgasm from him. "St-Stiles, put your mouth on me…" Derek begged, the hard clench of Stiles around him driving him insane as Stiles pulsed between them. Stiles reached up, biting Derek's throat hard, wrenching his orgasm from him entirely too powerfully for the tenderness of what had come before. Stiles kissed and licked at the mark as Derek came down, his hips tight against Stiles still, unwilling to move even a little away. Stiles didn't seem to mind, easing him off his arms until his body was draped over Stiles's. 

"Are you alright?" Stiles asked, voice sluggish and slurring slightly. 

"I should be asking you that question." Derek muttered. 

"Yeah, no." Stiles chuckled, scrubbing his fingers through Derek's hair. "Tell me: is there a sex life in my future?" 

"Yes." Derek groaned, but it was amused. Stiles squirmed under him, a squished happy dance as he giggled, prodding Derek lightly in the side until Derek raised himself up, carefully sliding free, checking Stiles by touch. "Seriously, though, are you okay?" 

"I'm better than that," Stiles murmured, "I want to do it again."

"Now?!" Derek cried, incredulous. 

Stiles's hand slid down over him, naughty as Derek startled into a laugh. "Can you? I think I can if I keep trying." 

"Stiles, stop fondling me." 

"Stop worrying, Derek. I'm happy." Stiles's voice told him he was worried Derek didn't feel the same. 

Derek couldn't let that stand, kissing him long and deep, "I love you. I'm happy, too." Derek kissed everywhere he could reach, curling up around him and settling down with him. 

"Next time, mark me." Stiles murmured, close to sleep as he pressed kisses into Derek's forehead. "You don't have to be so careful next time. Please." 

Derek sighed, gripping him closer, "You're going to be the death of me." 

"Not for a few more years yet. I want to try fucking you at some point, too. And I want to blow you. And try rimming. Rimming is a thing that needs to happen." Derek started to shake with silent laughter, one hand going up to cover his face. 

"Stop, I beg of you." 

"Kiss me quiet." 

Derek smiled slowly, leaning up and doing just that. Stiles smiled back brightly, kissing his temple and holding him closer.


End file.
